The day that I stopped dying, debts came due.

The pawn shop rang ‘cause I was short a few

And said they’d sold my hopes for when I grew

And childhood I’d traded would soon go too.

The bank then wrote to me about my wage

To stress I could no longer remortgage

As I lacked future, far as they could gauge

Having borrowed much at too young an age.

I still owed to my past the happiness

I’d swapped for skills so I’d feel less helpless

And I owed to my future much success

I’d sold for time to heal my hopelessness.

Some kids mortgage maturity to pay

To keep their families’ trauma at bay.

Generations bankrupt themselves that way

Loaning from later to feed their today.